


Birthday Secrets

by Alisanne



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-08
Updated: 2014-07-08
Packaged: 2018-02-07 23:11:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1917609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alisanne/pseuds/Alisanne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry manages to surprise Draco for his birthday.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Birthday Secrets

**Author's Note:**

> **Warnings** : None
> 
> **Written for Daily Deviant's June 2014 themes.** Themes/kinks chosen: bradycubia (slow sex/slow thrusting), masks, massage.
> 
> **Author's notes** : Happy Birthday, Draco Malfoy! Sorry for the lack of kink, but Draco seemed to want romance this year.   
> Thanks, as always, to my long-suffering beta readers, Sevfan and Emynn. 
> 
> **Disclaimer:** The characters contained herein are not mine. No money is being made from this fiction, which is presented for entertainment purposes only.

~

Birthday Secrets

~

“What do you want for your birthday tomorrow?”

“Surprise me.”

Harry huffed. “Draco--”

Draco, looking up from his newspaper, smirked. “Well it’s no fun if I have to tell you, is it?” 

Harry eyed him over the top of his glasses. “You hate it when I try to surprise you.” 

Draco hummed. “No,” he corrected. “I find your attempts charming.” 

Harry rolled his eyes. “You always take my gifts back.” 

Draco smiled. “Perhaps. Still, it’s no fun if I just come right out and _tell_ you what I want.” 

Leaning forward, Harry said, “But it might get you what you actually want.” 

Shrugging, Draco returned his attention to the newspaper. “I always get what I actually want anyway. Eventually.” 

Hiding a smirk, he watched from the corner of his eye as Harry sighed, stood up, placed his breakfast things in the sink and grabbed his cloak. “Fine,” he finally murmured, leaning down to kiss the top of Draco’s head. “Don’t tell me. But then don’t complain if you don’t like it.” 

Draco hummed. “I make no such promise.” 

Shaking his head, Harry left via Floo and Draco finished his breakfast. 

It was a hectic day at Gringotts, and Draco didn’t have much time to think about his birthday. That evening, his parents Flooed to wish him happy birthday, and to invite him for dinner that weekend, followed almost immediately by Pansy, who Flooed from France. “Still with Potter, then, I take it?” she said by way of greeting.

Draco rolled his eyes. They had the same conversation at least every couple of months. “Yes, Pans. Look, just because you believe in changing partners every ten minutes doesn’t mean the rest of us are like that.”

Pansy smirked. “I call it upgrading, darling. And you used to be just as bad as I was. I remember nights when you’d fuck two or three men in the club and think nothing of it.” 

Draco flushed, glancing over his shoulder to see if Harry was there listening. “Shut up, Pans. Those days are long over. And I don’t want Harry to hear you harping about it and get the wrong idea.” 

“Long over, hm?” She gave him a long look. “You’re sure you don’t require a bit more...excitement in your life?”

“My life is exciting enough. Now, if you’re through haranguing me--” 

She laughed at him. “Fine. Since you insist on living the boring life, here, have some wine. Happy birthday, Grandpa.” 

Draco held up two fingers, after accepting the wine, of course, which turned out to be a wonderful bottle of one-hundred-year-old Burgundy. 

Once he’d severed the Floo connection, Draco found Harry in the kitchen. 

"Everything all right in France?" he asked, looking up from whatever he was stirring in a pot.

Draco exhaled. _He didn't hear._ "Fine," he said. "You know how Pansy is." 

Harry hummed. "We've met, yes."

Draco narrowed his eyes but when Harry didn't say anything more, he relaxed again. "She sent wine."

“I guess that’s off my list, then,” Harry murmured when he saw the bottle.

Draco pursed his lips. “Oh no. One can never have too much exquisite wine,” he said, placing it in the liquor cabinet. Sauntering over to Harry, he slipped his arms around his waist. “Is that for dinner?” 

“Mm, yes, it’s for the roast.” 

Draco hummed, his hand slipping down to cup Harry’s crotch. “I was hoping to enjoy some different meat tonight.” 

Harry laughed. “That was awful.” 

“It’s my birthday.” Draco tugged Harry’s earlobe with his teeth. “You’re supposed to indulge me.” 

Putting down the spoon, Harry spun around, backing Draco up until he was pressed against the kitchen table. “It’s _almost_ your birthday,” he said. “And I always indulge you. I _live_ to indulge you.” 

Draco smirked. “You’re getting better at it, I’ll concede.” Sliding his thigh between Harry’s legs, he purred, “But there’s always room for improvement.” 

Dinner was late that night.

The morning of Draco’s birthday dawned bright and he woke with Harry’s mouth wrapped around his cock. With Harry using every technique at his disposal, Draco didn’t last long, and after only a few minutes, he was arching up into Harry’s mouth and spilling down his throat. “Was that my present?” he murmured in between Harry’s Draco-flavoured kisses. 

Harry smiled. “No. Well, yes, I suppose it’s a part of it, but not all of it.” 

Draco grinned. “Good.” 

Harry shook his head. “Greedy sod.” 

“It’s my birthday.” Draco pouted. “I’m allowed.” Pushing at Harry’s shoulders, he rolled on top of him. “Now, what else can we do this morning I wonder--?”

Well fucked, Draco was humming when he got to work, even though he was late. 

And then his day went to hell. An account he’d been working on for at least three months fell through, there was an attempted break-in, and one of the goblins spilled something on Draco’s robes. Draco hadn’t asked what the creature had been carrying around in his goblet; he suspected the less known about goblins’ drinking habits, the better, but it did mean he was in a foul mood when he arrived home and found Harry not there. 

He had left a note, however. After reading it, Draco tossed it aside. _As if I want to go to a couples massage without him_?

But, as Draco stood there, looking around the empty flat, he sighed. This had to be his worst birthday ever. He huffed. _Sod it, I’m going. I may as well get a massage out of this._

Draco arrived at the massage parlour at six. Walking in, he was immediately greeted by a smiling young woman. “May I help you?”

He nodded. “I believe I’ve a massage booked? Draco Malfoy.”

“As yes, Mr Malfoy. This way.” She led him down a hallway and towards a closed door. “You’re through here.”

Opening the door, Draco found a soothing room, decorated in blues and greens, with floating scented candles and soft harp music playing overhead. Against the wall was a low cabinet with phials of oil and stacks of towels, and in the centre of the room was a large massage table, with a couple of dressing gowns draped over it. Sitting atop them were two masks. Draco frowned.

“Your masseur, Henry, will be with you shortly. Please change into one of those dressing gowns, put on a mask, and relax.”

“A mask?” 

The woman inclined her head. “Yes. Your masseur will explain. Would you like anything to drink?”

“No thank you,” Draco said. “I’m fine.” 

The woman nodded, backing out of the room.

Stripping efficiently, Draco slipped on a dressing gown, sighing as the silk caressed his skin. He then attached the mask to his face and, as there was nowhere else to sit but on the table, that’s where he sat. 

The door opened and in walked a man with a mask covering the top half of his face. Draco blinked. 

“Good evening. I’m Henry, your masseur today,” Henry whispered. “And let me apologise for my voice, I’m recovering from a recent respiratory illness. Is this your first time here?” At Draco’s nod, he hummed. “Well, the masks are to preserve your privacy and our anonymity, thus sparing you any...embarrassment should we meet in a social situation. We also find that people tend to...relax more when masked. Now, would you like to proceed?”

Unable to think of a reason not to, Draco nodded. “All right.” 

“Will your partner be joining you?” 

Draco sighed. “Evidently not.” 

“Ah, well then perhaps I can help you forget all about him, at least for a time. Please remove your dressing gown and lie face down on the table.” 

Draco stared sharply Henry, but he didn’t seem to have meant anything by it, he was over by the oils and towels, so he did as instructed. Immediately, a warm towel was draped over him and folded such that it covered only his arse.

Henry’s hands were strong, and as his oiled fingers began pressing the tension out of Draco’s muscles, Draco closed his eyes and relaxed, listening to the music. 

“That’s it,” Henry purred softly, pressing deeper. “Let that tension go.” 

Draco moaned as Henry worked on his lower back, arousal coiling inside him. Inevitably, his body started to react to the sensual touches. He almost imagined he could feel Henry’s magic reaching into him, relaxing and soothing him...His eyes snapped open, his body stiffening in suspicion. 

“Is something wrong?” 

Draco hummed, mind racing. “Oh no, I’m fine. Continue.” 

Henry did, somehow seeming to know all the places Draco carried tension and working them out with firm massage strokes of his hands. When he finally instructed Draco to turn over, Draco was ready, watching Henry’s reaction carefully. 

Henry’s eyes dropped to the tented towel and he licked his lips. “A natural reaction,” he whispered, his voice a trifle more hoarse. “Normally, since you booked a couple’s massage, I would not offer, but as you’re here alone, I can...take care of it for you.” 

Draco hummed. “That would be lovely,” he said. “On one condition.” 

“And what’s that?” 

“Take off the mask, Harry.” 

‘Henry’ gaped at him. “Excuse me?” 

“You heard me.” Reaching up, Draco removed his mask, tossing it aside. He raised an eyebrow in challenge. 

Slowly, ‘Henry’ removed the mask. “How did you know?” Harry asked.

“Did you think I wouldn’t recognise your magic signature? It’s very distinctive.” Sitting up, Draco clasped Harry’s hand. “Why the pretence?” 

Harry shrugged, looking abashed. “I thought you might want something... _someone_ different for your birthday.” 

“Why would you--?” Draco’s eyes narrowed. “You heard me talking to Pansy yesterday. Salazar, I’m going to kill her.” 

Harry smiled. “In her defence, she says it every time she talks to you, so no, I didn’t eavesdrop on you yesterday.” 

“I’m still going to kill her,” Draco huffed. 

Harry leaned in, kissing him. “After we fuck, yeah? Right now I really want to be inside you.” 

Draco smiled. “Well, then, _Henry_ , hurry up and take me before my partner gets here and ruins everything.” 

Slowly, Harry grinned. “Yes, sir.” He pressed Draco back down onto the table. “Although you should know, there’s no hurrying here. We believe in the slow, methodical approach.” 

And he wasn’t lying. With oiled fingers and wet tongue, Harry opened Draco slowly and carefully. First, he pressed Draco’s arse cheeks apart and began rhythmically sliding his thumb in and out of Draco. Then, when Draco was writhing, he pushed his face between Draco’s cheeks and licked him, sliding his tongue in and out. 

All the while as Draco lay there panting and begging, the music played and the heady scent of candles and oil and _Harry_ rose around him. 

Finally, once he could easily push three fingers and his tongue into Draco’s hole, Harry pulled back, positioning his oiled cock. 

There was no burn, no hesitation, just a slick glide inside, and when Harry started moving, smooth, slow thrusts in and out, Draco couldn’t help himself. He cried out, shuddering and coming all over the table. Harry, however, never faltered, steadily fucking him through his tremors, until Draco’s cock again started to harden. And still Harry continued sliding in and out, his rhythm never faltering. 

“You’re killing me,” Draco groaned when he was once again on the brink. 

Harry laughed softly, nibbling his ear, his hand coming around to stroke Draco’s erection until he started coming again. “Isn’t that why the French call it the little death?” 

Eventually, however, even Harry couldn’t hold out, and he started speeding up, until he was pounding into Draco, his breath hot on his neck as he moved. “Draco....God...I’m going to...I have to--”

Closing his eyes, Draco squeezed his muscles and Harry shouted, shoving deep and coming for what seemed like an eternity, his body shuddering against Draco’s.

“Wow.” Sitting up, Draco flicked the hair out his face and stared down at Harry in awe. “I had no idea you had it in you.” 

Harry cracked open one eye. “Well, technically, I had it in _you_.” 

“Prat.” Draco started to move slowly, surprised that he wasn’t sore.

“It’s the oil.” 

Draco raised an eyebrow. “What?” 

“The oil. I brewed it. It has a bit of an anaesthetic in it as well as being a lubricant. You shouldn’t be too sore.” 

Draco hummed. “Well, aren’t you full of surprises.” 

Harry smirked. “I try.” 

Reaching for his clothes, Draco started to dress. “I am upset about one thing, however.” 

Harry, buttoning his shirt, frowned. “What’s that?” 

“Why haven’t you been giving me massages at home?” 

“You never asked.” 

Draco pouted. “You never told me you knew how!” 

Grinning, Harry leaned in and kissed him. “Well it’s no fun if I tell you everything, is it?” 

~


End file.
